


Opening Day

by Mcnamcj



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Romanov Feels, Protective Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:51:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcnamcj/pseuds/Mcnamcj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve saves Natasha’s life and suffers devastating consequences. Now it’s up to Natasha and the other Avengers to put him back together again. Hurt!Steve, Caring!Natasha, Steve/Natasha Friendship, Romanogers</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, only love them  
> Notes: Takes place sometime after TWS assuming that S.H.I.E.L.D. gets repurposed. Hope you enjoy!

Natasha's first thought upon regaining consciousness was that she couldn't take a deep breath. Why was it so hard to breathe? Why did the air seem so thick and stifling? She rolled to her side and opened her eyes, not knowing much of anything besides that her head was throbbing and that something wet was trickling down her cheek. When her eyes began to focus and the rest of her senses played catch up, the reason for her breathing issue became very apparent.

She was in a warehouse that was engulfed in flames. She lay to the side of a few hundred metal canisters, filled to the gills with bullets and explosives, one of which had a stain of blood on the lid. That explained the headache. She blinked against the smoke, trying to clear her head, trying to remember. She peered out across the large room, where the flames were twice as high and the smoke was thick and black. There had been an explosion. A bomb.

It was coming back to her. The warehouse had been hiding bomb material commissioned by a mad scientist hell bent on destroying the world. They had gone in and quickly found themselves surrounded by guards. A fire fight had ensued and something had gotten triggered. They had just ten seconds to spare. Someone had thrown her out of the line of fire. Literally thrown her.

Steve.

"Oh my god!" She stood up, ignoring the slight dizziness the movement triggered, desperate to spot Steve amongst the smoke and flame.

"Steve! Steve! What's your twenty, over?" She said into her comm, but all that answered was static. She stepped away from her area, noticing the bodies of two guards who no longer had heads. A second later, she was assaulted by a flying canister that nearly took her own head off. She ducked and rolled, avoiding the same fate as the guards. The entire place was going to go up and soon. It had enough explosives in it to blow up an entire city block. They had to get the hell out of there.

"Rogers!" she screamed, her lungs burning, barely able to make any noise over the sound of the fire. "Steve! Answer me now!" The only reply was the thick flurry of flames that was getting higher and higher with every passing second.

"Steve! Where are you?" she screamed, her voice shrill against the smoke her vocal cords were fighting against. A canister nearby popped it's top, sending sparks everywhere, a chunk catching her arm, melting away a piece of her suit. She yelped and quickly pawed it away, but an angry red welt had already formed and part of the material stuck to the burn. She grimaced, but continued her search. "Steve! Steve! Cap! Damn it, Steve, where are you?" She was growing desperate and terrified.

Suddenly, a canister about thirty feet to her right toppled over on it's side. She looked over eagerly and finally spotted Steve. He was hunched over on all fours, struggling to right himself, but he wasn't having much luck. He was conscious and alive though and that was all that mattered at the moment. She could deal with the rest. She dashed up and over a canister and cartwheeled over another before pulling a running high jump over a bomb casing that landed her at Steve's feet. Her lungs were immediately assaulted by the thicker, blacker smoke and she began to cough something fierce.

Steve was still hunched over, one arm wrapped around his abdomen, his other arm limply hanging off an obviously dislocated shoulder. He peered up at her, his face black with soot. "You okay?" he asked, ending the question with a cough followed by a wince as he curled up into himself.

"Five by five, Rogers. You saved my ass. Yet again," she said, kneeling down to examine his injuries. "What's your damage?"

Steve tried to take a deep breath and couldn't, his eyes squeezing tight with pain. "Shoulder's out. Couple bumps, bruises. Ribs are the worst." He punctuated the words with a groan and then went into a coughing fit that left him hyperventilating between the smoke and his broken chest. By the time he could breathe again, he was pale-faced and shaking. "We gotta get out. You seen my shield anywhere?"

Natasha scanned the area, her eyes laser focused. When she didn't see anything, she stood up on a canister for another vantage point. All she saw was flames, smoke and more canisters."I don't see it. It could be anywhere," she said as she hopped down and settled next to Steve again.

Steve took as deep a breath as he could muster as she saw him mentally assess the situation. "You try calling out?"

"Yeah. Comms are down. Must've been the bomb or smoke causing interference. Doesn't really matter. There's no good way for them to get in here."

"No good way to get out either," murmured Steve as he checked out the perimeter of the room. After several long seconds, he locked in on an exit about fifty yards away. An exit blocked by a wall of flames.

Steve gingerly untucked himself from his hunched over position and straightened up as much as he could, looking like the motion was as pleasant as Chinese water torture. "You gotta put my shoulder back in, Nat. I need both my arms if we're gonna get out of here."

"Wait, what are you thinking?"

"Just trust me."

"Yeah, but without your shield…"

Steve grabbed her arm and angled her so she was looking directly into his eyes. She saw pain and exhaustion and desperation. And determination. "I need you to put my shoulder back in. That's an order."

"Fine," she responded, scooting over to his injured side. She did a cursory exam of the mangled limb, shifting it slightly in the process, causing Steve to yelp. "Steve, this looks really bad. Like needs surgery bad. I might not get it lined up exactly where it needs to go."

"Just do it," urged Steve, nearly breathless. "The longer we wait, the more it heals in that position anyway. You're doing me a favor."

Natasha shook her head, not liking the idea one bit. "You have a pretty messed up sense of what a favor consists of, Rogers," said Natasha. She grasped his arm and straightened it towards her, experimentally pulling on various joints to figure out where she needed to apply the pressure to get the joint realigned. When Steve cried out, she knew she'd found the right spot. "You ready?"

Steve inhaled deeply and nodded, gritting his teeth and scrunching his eyes shut.

"Sorry about this," said Natasha as she put as much pressure as she could on the joint and then pushed with every ounce of strength she had.

"Ahhhhhhhh!"

It wasn't enough. She needed more power to push it all the way back in. "Sorry, sorry," she said as she switched tactics and brought her leg out in front of her.

"Hurry Nat," panted Steve, his face pasty and damp with sweat.

"I got this." She placed her foot against the joint and then kicked off of it as hard as she could, throwing her full weight against the shoulder. There was a loud pop and she felt the joint shift back onto place under her foot.

Steve wailed and then began to dry heave, his stomach long empty but the pain not knowing the difference. His body jackknifed violently as the retching continued and he whimpered as he collapsed in on his battered ribcage.

He would've fallen over if Natasha hadn't grabbed him and leaned his head against her chest for support. "Easy. Easy. Breathe. Breathe," she coached, running her hand up and down his quivering back, trying to ignore the nauseous spasms that continued to plague him. "Take control, Steve. You can handle this." She felt terrible for pushing him but she was growing more and more worried as the flames surrounding them got bigger and the smoke thicker. She could hardly breathe. Hell, hardly see, her eyes stinging from the smoke.

Steve brought up some bile and spit it out, reaching his good arm up to her to grasp her arm, his head resting against her other arm as the retching finally stopped and he tried to catch his breath.

Natasha could hear his pained moans and she placed a supportive hand on his shoulder, trying to be his center so he could gain some strength. "You gonna make it?"

Steve moaned, finally sitting up. He gingerly moved the shoulder that had been dislocated, grunting as the shoulder loosened out. He sighed and met her eyes, his blues pained but still sharp as hell. "Let's get out of here."

"We've gotta find your shield first."

"There's no time, Natasha. If we're gonna get out of here, we gotta go now. I'll just tuck you under me and run like hell. We'll be out in twenty seconds. All of this will be over."

Natasha glanced at the exit Steve had in mind. The flames seems to be even higher now. A pure wall of fire. "Steve…"

"I'll run fast," said Steve, hacking up some soot and spitting it out.

"This is…"

"The only choice we have."

"You're gonna burn."

Steve flashed his patent wide-eyed grin that was just as deadly a tool as any she had in her own arsenal. "It's okay, I'll heal anyway. I cut myself shaving this morning. Big old hack of skin, blood dripping into the sink. Ten minutes later and it was good as new. See?" he said, pointing to an unmarred section of his jaw.

She reached over and ran her fingers over it, feeling not so much as a bump. She sighed and let her hand fall down. "That's a paper cut, Steve. Second, third degree burns are an entirely different animal."

Steve shrugged. "It doesn't matter. This is what we're doing."

A nearby canister exploded, raining sparks all over them. Natasha screamed as the molten ash landed on her forehead, charring it. Steve wiped the offending spark off of her.

"Tuck under me," he said, opening his body up as best he could.

"Your ribs…"

"Already hurt like hell. Might as well hurt for a reason."

She gazed up into Steve's dazzling blue eyes, suddenly regretting every conversation she'd never had with him, every question she'd never asked, every way she didn't really know him. This couldn't be it. She suddenly felt like crying. "My favorite color's blue," she said randomly. "Everybody think's it's red, but it's really blue. I always wanted blue roses. I think they can do that nowadays. Cross breeding or cross pollination or something…" She trailed off, a few tears slipping from her eyes before she could help it.

"Natasha," Steve said in that gentle way of his that would've sounded false coming from anyone else, but from him always seemed so genuine and earnest. Hopeful. Like everything would always be okay. "We're gonna make it. I promise."

Natasha sniffled, feeling silly but nonetheless comforted. If Steve said it, then it was true. He would never lie. "Yeah?"

"Look, let's make a date. Yankees. Opening day. Two weeks from now. Hotdogs, peanuts, home runs. I'll catch you a foul ball and buy you enough beer to get you drunk and tell me all your secrets."

Natasha chuckled through her tears. "I hate baseball."

Steve smiled crookedly. "Not with me, you won't."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tears dying out. "That's pretty cocky, Rogers."

"It's not cocky if it's the truth. Now let's get the hell out of here."

Natasha nodded and then paused, kissing him on the cheek, letting her lips linger just a little longer than she should've. She heard him gasp ever so lightly as she pulled away. Then she curled herself into a tight ball and octopussed herself around Steve's chest and legs. He moaned as her head pressed against shifty ribs. His abdomen rose and fell against her cheek as he took several deep, empowering breaths, like a bull getting ready to charge.

"Don't let go, Natasha. No matter what happens, just keep hanging on. I'll get you outside."

"I know you will," she said, pressing her forehead against his heart.

His arms wrapped around her and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "Here we go."

And they were off.

He was fast. Faster than she'd ever seen him, or maybe it just felt different from the inside. She was on a bucking bronco, clinging for dear life, her body knocking against his damaged one, wincing for him every time she bashed against one of his injuries. But still he continued on. She could feel the heat pass them by, the smoke choking her, flames reaching out for her. And she could hear Steve. His pants. His groans of pain. She could feel the way his chest heaved as he tried to suck in breath. Then she felt the throb of wicked, burning heat on her hands, hands which were wrapped around Steve's back. Then she could hear Steve's screams of agony that seemed to go on forever and forever and get louder and louder as the screams turned to outright sobs of tortuous pain that would be etched in her brain for the rest of her life. Still they continued on. She felt something solid hit her back and give against the momentum and all of sudden there was no more fire, but fresh air. And then she found herself splayed out on the pavement, bits of gravel scrapping her raw hands and knees as she somersaulted once, twice, three times before she unceremoniously crashed in a heap on her face.

It took her a minute before she could register anything. She shook her head, wincing at various aches and pains, her chest still tight as a cough burst its way out of her lungs. Once she was able to breathe, she peeked her head up, trying to orient herself.

Then she saw Steve and it was all the orientation she needed. He was on his side facing her, his body shaking, his eyes open but not seeing. His face and chest were unmarred save for a few burns here and there. But his back and right side were smoking like they'd just come off the grill. She could actually smell his flesh burning.

She would've thrown up if he didn't need her so badly.

"Steve!" She jumped up, bridging the gap to him in seconds, gazing in horror as she turned him over, exposing the entire breadth of his injury. His back was a raw, charred mess of burns that snaked around his torso to his belly button. She could see bits of red, white and blue tangled up in the scorched flesh. His uniform had melted into the burns.

Steve only shook, tears streaming down his face, gasps whistling out of his lips that were no louder than whispers.

Natasha's comm suddenly sounded with static and then she heard a voice on the other end. "Repeat, Romanoff, Rogers, come in over."

Natasha shakily brought the comm on her wrist to her mouth. "Rogers is down. Repeat, Ste…Steve's down," was all she managed before she gathered Steve in her arms and burst into tears.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks so much for the response and the kind words! On with the story...

Natasha had given Steve complete ownership of her hand, her bones squeezed so tight in his iron grip that she was pretty sure they were fractured. She didn't feel it. Her sole concern was to do anything she could to comfort him or take away his pain until help arrived. The medi-vac helicopter was five minutes out, loaded to the gills with every piece of medical equipment that could be of use to the super soldier and more importantly, Bruce Banner. The doctor would be able to put Captain America back together again.

All she had to do was keep Steve alive until they got there.

Steve was crying. All out sobs of pure pain that left his face puffy and his eyes bloodshot. He was murmuring between the sobs, calling out for Bucky and occasionally his mother and any other nameless, faceless person that could give him comfort. He was beyond the serum, stretched far past the limits of anything the super soldier known as Captain America could endure. Now it was just on Steve Rogers the man to work through the pain. To survive it. If anyone could do it, she knew it was him. Steve was the strongest man she knew. The serum had nothing to do with it.

"Hang on for me, Steve. Please just hang on," she whispered into his ear, resting her cheek against his, her own tears mixing in with his. He was burning up, his face a sweat-slicked furnace. She wasn't sure how long he'd last if his body continued to war against him like this.

Steve groaned suddenly and screamed, crushing her hand even harder. "Make it stop. Please make it stop," he gasped through a throat worn out by screams and smoke inhalation. Natasha pulled him closer, placing her free hand just above his stomach and began to rub his belly, seeing as it was one of the few spots he wasn't injured or burned. She kissed the top of his head, smelling nothing but smoke as her tears dripped down into his hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She held on tight as his body began to seize against the torment, his moans of pain seeming to go on forever. She swallowed against more tears and glanced back at the flaming warehouse, spotting a lid to one of the canisters on the ground. She considered picking it up and whacking Steve in the head with it to put him out. At least then he wouldn't feel the pain.

She continued to contemplate the action until she heard the faint sound of the medi-vac chopper approaching in the distance. She sagged against Steve in relief, hopeful that there would be something aboard that would put him out of his misery, if for even a few minutes. "Calvary's here, Rogers. Hang on for me."

Steve moaned raggedly and then his whole body stilled like a switch had been flipped off.

"Steve," she called out, panic racing through her body. "Steve!" She put a hand to his chest, feeling no bounce of breath against her palm. Then she put an ear to his mouth, waiting for the tickle of his breath. Nothing. He wasn't breathing.

"No, no, no, don't you do this to me. Don't you dare do this," she pleaded, her voice collapsing into a sob. She leaned his body up against hers, as mindful as she could be of his burns and other injuries. Then she tilted his head back and opened his mouth, pressing her lips to his and blowing her air into him over and over again until she was light-headed. Then she began to furiously pump her hands against his chest, feeling his damaged ribs move under her grip. "Damn you, Rogers, come on!" She took a break from pumping his chest to blow more air into his mouth. "Come on, Steve, I thought you were tougher than this. Don't you give up on me!" She raised her fist and whacked him square in the chest as hard as she could.

Steve's chest burst up under her hand and he took in a shallow, raspy breath, his eyes fluttering open into two blue agates of misery. "Nat?"

"Oh thank god," she sighed, pulling him into a smothering embrace, holding him steady as a harsh cough wracked his body and he struggled to regain his breath. She didn't even realize that the helicopter had arrived until Bruce was quite literally prying Steve from her arms.

"Natasha, you gotta let him go," said Bruce, his voice gentle yet insistent. She looked down, realizing that the crushing grip on her hand was no longer Steve's doing, but her own. She let Steve's hand go just long enough so they could pick the super solider up and position him on the stretcher, hooking him up to IVs of saline and pain meds and antibiotics and strapping an oxygen mask on his face.

She grasped it again as soon as they were all settled in the chopper and ready for take off, giving Steve a reassuring squeeze. She felt the slightest of a squeeze back. She glanced down, catching his eyes. "You scared the hell out of me back there, Cap."

"Sorry," she saw him mouth through the oxygen mask before his eyes rolled back and his head sagged to the side.

"Steve? Steve! Banner, is he okay?"

Bruce placed a calming hand on her back. "He's fine, Natasha. The drugs we're pumping him up with just hit him, that's all. They won't last long though. His body just burns through it with the serum."

Natasha collapsed back in her seat, her hand still firmly gripping Steve's.

Bruce took the opportunity to fully examine the burns, wincing at the damage.

"How bad is it?" asked Natasha, scooting forward to get a better look.

"Second degree burns it looks like. Painful as hell but for him it shouldn't cause any permanent damage if it heals up right."

"So he's gonna be okay?"

Bruce used a scalpel to examine the bits of skin that had uniform melted into it. "We're going to have to clean this up. Remove the scraps of uniform and dirt and make sure the areas don't get infected. Then he'll be in the clear. We have to do it sooner rather than later though. His skin is already starting to show signs of healing and if we wait much longer, we're going to be digging holes in him to get all this out."

Natasha cursed in Russian, shaking her head in disbelief. "Can't he catch a damn break? He saved my life and this is the thanks he gets?"

"He'll be okay, Natasha. I'll do everything I can to make him as comfortable as possible. You have my word. Steve's a good man. I'm going to make sure he's good as new, if not better by the time all of this is over."

Natasha sighed. "Sucks to be a hero, huh?"

Bruce smiled sadly and then looked her up and down, noting her own injuries. "You need to get checked out," he urged, reaching his hand towards the burn on her forehead.

Natasha shrugged away from his touch. "I'm fine. Just take care of him."

Both of their attentions were brought back to Steve as he coughed into the oxygen mask, black soot hitting the clear plastic. Natasha pulled the mask off of him and Bruce leaned him to the side so he could cough out the sooty phlegm. He hacked up the gunk, his eyes squeezing shut against the pain.

"How you doing, Steve?" asked Natasha, carding a hand through his hair.

"Been better," Steve answered, not opening his eyes, his voice weak.

"I wish I could switch places with you and..."

"And you'd be dead," Steve choked out. "I couldn't live with that."

"Couldn't huh? Aw Cap, you're gonna make me blush."

A smile ghosted over Steve's pain mangled features.

Bruce checked the meds feeding the IVs into Steve's arms. "How you doing, Steve? How's your pain?"

"M'okay, doctor," Steve answered.

"Lying's a sin, you know," quipped Natasha.

"Scale of 1 to 10," said Bruce.

"Six," answered Steve.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Stop with the brave face, Steve."

Steve sighed. "Fine. Eight."

"We'll get you something stronger once we get on the ground, Captain. Just hang on."

Steve nodded, his eyes still closed. Natasha replaced his oxygen mask and ran a thumb down his cheek.

The helicopter started its approach to the base, circling around as its altitude got lower and lower.

"Everything's going to be okay," said Bruce as the helicopter touched down. A number of S.H.I.E.L.D. workers approached the chopper as the door opened. "Get Captain Rogers to the sick bay and prep the O.R. for immediate debridement procedure," instructed Bruce as he got out of the helicopter and ran ahead while Natasha stayed with Steve, keeping her hand gripped in his as he was lifted out of the helicopter and wheeled off the helipad and into a waiting elevator.

One of the workers pressed the ground floor button and then stepped off the elevator, leaving Natasha and Steve alone as it began to descend. Natasha was grateful for the moment of peace and quiet away from prying, curious eyes over Captain America's injuries. She sighed and leaned against the side of the elevator, taking a load off.

Steve peered up at Natasha with a curious expression on his face. "Where are they taking me?" he asked, fogging the oxygen mask, trying desperately to hold it together, but she could tell he was on the verge of panic.

Natasha hesitated, dreading the words that were about to come out of her mouth. "They have to clean the burns, Steve. There's…your uniform…some pieces got stuck…"

Whatever strength had been holding Steve together suddenly collapsed before her eyes at the realization that there was still more pain to endure. The super soldier turned equal parts white and green as he began to dry heave. Natasha removed the oxygen mask and shifted his body towards her so he was curled in on himself to quell the nausea. It didn't do much good as the heaves turned into horrendous gut busting coughs and pretty soon, Steve was in the midst of a full on panicked coughing attack. He wheezed in and out as he struggled to take in air, gagging with pain and nausea and choking on soot as involuntary tears streamed down his face, his good arm wrapped as solidly as it could around his damaged ribs to combat against the stress the attack was putting on his fractured bones.

"Steve! Steve, listen to me, you've got to calm down," said Natasha in a soothing but firm tone, trying to direct his attention away from himself and towards her. She slowed down her own breathing and then grabbed his hand, placing it over her heart so he could try and mirror it. "Breathe with me okay…one…inhale…"

Steve inhaled and nearly coughed out a lung.

"Okay, okay, now out…"

Steve blew a breath out, a moan simultaneous escaping his lips.

"In," breathed Natasha.

Steve followed suit, his air a little smoother this time.

"And out."

Steve blew a breath out, finally calming down.

Natasha repeated the process a few more times and Steve's coughing fit gradually subsided.

"You okay?" asked Natasha.

Steve nodded. "You sounded like a yoga teacher," he panted as the elevator reached the ground floor and opened.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow. "Wanna show me your downward facing dog, Rogers?"

"Maybe later," answered Steve as she wheeled him out of the elevator and into the waiting O.R..

Natasha's eyes focused on the bottles of disinfectant, tweezers, scalpels and bandages that had been laid out on a tray. She was suddenly terrified for Steve.

Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, gloved up and dressed in scrubs. He motioned for Natasha to join him out of earshot of Steve.

"Don't run away, Cap," said Natasha, flicking Steve's ear before stepping over to Bruce. "What's going on?"

"Natasha, this is going to be very, very bad for him. I'm honestly not sure how the drugs are going to hold up. You might want to step out for this…"

"No way," Natasha interrupted. "He's here because of me, because he saved my life. I'm not leaving him."

"I figured that's what you'd say," said Bruce, nodding outside to some sinks. "Scrub up then. I won't start without you."

"Thanks," said Natasha.

She spent the next few minutes coughing out her own sooty lungs and removing her fire singed clothes, putting on fresh scrubs and washing up her blackened, burned hands.

By the time she got back into the operating room, Steve was shivering with pain, his burns pulsing evilly under the bright light of the O.R. table. His arms now had double the iv's, pumping him full of one drug or another, but nothing seemed to be working to calm him or his pain down. Natasha reclaimed what now felt like her rightful place besides Steve and grabbed his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Just hold on to me, Steve. I'll get you through this," she said, her eyes focusing on his, not entirely comprehending just how beautiful his eyes were despite all the pain reflecting back at her.

Steve smiled. "I know you will, Nat." He took in a sharp breath, sounding clearer then he had even ten minutes prior, any sign of smoke inhalation faded to nearly undetectable levels. "I'm good."

Bruce glanced down at Steve."You ready, Captain?"

"Let's do this," said Steve.

Bruce nodded and reached for a scalpel and tweezers, placing them against the worst of the burns and going to work.

Steve winced hard at the intrusion, his eyes squeezing shut, his long eyelashes flickering against the agony.

"Steve, stay with it," said Natasha.

Bruce struggled to pull a long piece of material from one of the burns.

Steve's body writhed in agony and he let out a blood-curdling scream.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks so much for your continued support of the story! I so appreciate it :) On with it…

"Stop!" Natasha yelled as Steve's scream of agony tore right into her heart.

Bruce stopped his ministrations, holding up the instruments as if in surrender.

"No," Steve gasped, his face shiny with sweat. "I can do this. Keep going, doctor."

"You sure?" Bruce asked.

Steve nodded.

"Kick up those med levels to max," said Bruce to one of the nurses.

"They already are, doctor."

"Just do it," Steve whispered, a silent tear sliding down his cheek.

Bruce eyed Natasha and then went to work again, digging out another strip of Steve's uniform. Steve's face collapsed, his eyes clenching shut and he let out a breath that sounded like he'd just been punched in the gut.

Natasha grabbed Steve's other hand, which was hanging limply off the table.

"Hold on to me," said Natasha. Steve sighed and dug into her grip as she repositioned him on the table so he was facing her, away from Bruce and the nurses and everything that was hurting him. His eyes drifted open and all she saw was agony and resignation.

She had to take that look out of his eyes. "Tell me about Bucky, Steve. Best memory."

Bruce pulled a huge chunk of material out and Steve groaned, turning a few shades closer to green.

Natasha squeezed both of his hands, trying to focus him on her. "Come on, Rogers, best memory."

Steve swallowed a few times, still looking like he was about to throw up and then he inhaled as hard as his hurt body would allow, trying to get ahold of himself. "It was Christmas. Nineteen twenty eight. I was ten…ahhhhh," he paused, panting with pain.

"Yeah, yeah, so Christmas, ten…go on," urged Natasha.

Steve took another deep breath and continued. "My parents couldn't afford any presents, so Bucky took half the presents under his tree…owww…oh god…he gave 'em to me. I tr…tried to give them back, but he wouldn't take 'em." Steve's face settled into something resembling peace, a smile emerging, his eyes growing distant, lost in the past. "I got my first baseball set. Bat, ball, glove." Steve winced and continued. "Of course, I could barely play with any of it. I was so…so weak and slow. Couldn't run, couldn't catch, couldn't hit. Bucky didn't care though. We just played all day. By the time we were done, I slept for like three days after I was so tired. It was the best Christmas of my life."

Steve's body had begun to steadily shake against the pain he was enduring, sweat pouring down his body, his eyes becoming glassy, his breathing shallower. This was hitting him hard. Harder then he was letting on.

Bruce started to go to town in one particularly bad area and Steve went white. "Ugh…owwwww."

Natasha squeezed his hand again. "What about Peggy?"

Steve struggled to catch his breath. "Wha…what about…uhh…her?"

"When did you fall in love?"

"Hmmmm," Steve moaned. "First moment I saw her."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Come on, Rogers, love not lust."

"First moment." Steve breathed.

"God you are a sap."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that," interjected Bruce, nodding to Natasha and motioning towards another gruesome section of skin littered with uniform.

Natasha ran her thumb across the back of Steve's hand. "So what was it about her?"

Bruce started to dig away.

Steve flinched hard. "Ahhhhh!"

"Tell me about Peggy."

Steve couldn't answer. His air was sawing in and out of him, his arm tucking up against his ribs.

"Steve…"

"Stop…please…agh…I need…need a sec. M'sorry." Steve pulled his hands from Natasha's grasp and curled into himself miserably, his whole body thrumming with agony.

It was at that moment that Tony Stark walked into the room. "What happened?"

"He saved my ass and turned into the human torch," Natasha answered, ruffling her hand through Steve's hair.

Tony eyed Steve's suffering on the table. "How's it hanging, Cap?"

Steve only moaned in response, his pain tolerance beyond its peak once again.

"He's holding his own, but it's wearing him down," answered Bruce.

"What are you using for pain meds?"

"Everything. His body's burning though it too fast. Even faster than it normally would. It's on overdrive trying to heal up the burns."

Tony observed Steve's agony for several long seconds, horrified at how much he was hurting. "Give me twenty minutes. I'll see what I can whip up."

"Thanks Tony," said Natasha. She pried Steve's hands out from his body, taking them once again in her own. "Hang in there, Steve."

Steve only nodded, panting against the pillow, trying to catch his breath, wincing each time the movement jarred his ribs or jostled his tender skin.

Bruce backed away from the table and checked on Steve's IV bags. "I'm gonna see if I can turbo charge these up a bit, Cap."

"Thanks, Doc," slurred Steve.

Bruce futzed with the bags, attaching another one to the pole.

Natasha grabbed a cloth and cooled it with some water. Then she returned to Steve's side and gently set the dampened material against his neck. She watched as Steve's body relaxed a bit and she was grateful to provide at least a little bit of relief.

"Thanks, Nat," said Steve, looking up at her with puppy eyes that would've melted her on the spot if she wasn't so excellently trained in resisting torture. Even the pleasant kind.

Bruce stepped back to the table. "Alright, Steve, you wanna finish this?"

"You bet," answered Steve, sounding not at all convinced.

Bruce nodded and picked up the scalpel and tweezers, going back to work.

Natasha watched in horrified fascination as Bruce maneuvered the tweezers past blazing red chunks of skin, clamping around a small piece of material and lifting the piece out. She shuddered, not wanting to think about what Steve was going through because of her.

Steve cried out and it brought her back to her senses. The super soldier was reaching a tentative hand out to her and she knew how much that cost him, how much he had to have been hurting to need the comfort. Natasha grabbed his hand and squeezed.

"God Steve, I wish I could trade places with you."

"Nat, stop."

Bruce pulled out another piece of fabric.

Steve yelped. "You asked me about…oh…Peggy."

Natasha couldn't fight her tears, knowing that Steve was trying to distract her. To make her feel better. "Yeah," she said through the tears.

"First day…basic training. We were lined…ah…ughhh…lined up and this jerk of a guy started mouthing off to her. Crap about being…a dame…woman." Steve paused, his jaw clenched tight, his face red, his body shaking, moments away from coming apart.

"What'd she do Steve?"

Steve's eyes squeezed shut, tears falling down his cheeks, his grimace of pain so tight across his forehead she thought it might become permanent.

"Steve, what'd she do?"

A tiny smile emerged from the misery of his face. "She…she decked him. I fell…" Steve paused, but this time it had nothing to do with his pain. "I fell in love with her right there."

It was Natasha's turn to smile. "Steve Rogers. Who knew you'd like your women so tough?"

Steve looked like he wanted to retort, but then Bruce pulled a huge piece of uniform out of his skin.

"Ahhhhhhhhh…god!"

Bruce kept working, digging quickly. "Almost done, Steve. Hang in there. You're doing great"

Steve sobbed against the pain, another wail of misery. "No…"

Bruce paused, glancing at Natasha. It broke her heart, but she nodded for him to continue, knowing that practically, it was going to be easier on Steve getting this done sooner rather than later. That didn't mean she had to like it.

"No! Please…stop…I can't…pleeasse," Steve bawled, begging for the pain to stop.

Natasha pulled his hand up to her heart. "I've got you, Steve. We're almost done. You will get through this. That's an order, captain. An order."

Steve gasped, choking on tears of pain. "Nat, please, tell him to stop. Bruce, I can't…"

"One more, Steve, one more," said Bruce.

"Ahhhhhh…ooowwwwww. I can't take it!" Steve cried out, hyperventilating.

"You're doing it, Steve," Natasha assured. "Don't you dare give up. You have to follow orders."

Bruce pulled out a nearly intact smoke blackened star from Steve's back.

Steve's scream was even louder and more heart-wrenching then when he'd been burning in the fire. He'd been pushed past his limit. He was done.

"It's over, Steve. We're finished," said Bruce.

Steve sagged foreword into the pillow, wheezing as he tried to get his breath, his whole body quivering.

Natasha collapsed on top of him, her mouth and nose buried against his hair, wrapping her arms around him in relief.

"I've got it!"

Natasha popped her head up to see Tony burst back into the room with a jar of electric blue cream in his hand. "This'll help…and possibly grow him a set of breasts, but we'll deal with that later."

Bruce grabbed the container and opened it, wincing at the smell. "What the hell is in it?"

Tony made an awkward face. "Better to not ask."

Natasha grabbed the bottle out of Bruce's hand and dolloped a good helping on her glove. Then she proceeded to delicately rub the noxious cream into Steve's burns. The relief seemed to be instant.

"Awwwww," moaned Steve in what was akin to ecstasy. After the hell he'd been through, to him it probably was.

She whipped the cream around, rubbing it around his back, his muscles relaxing underneath her touch as his pain seemingly disappeared.

"Ohhh…thank you."

Natasha cupped her hand around the burns that wrapped around his belly, pushing the line of cream into his belly button.

Steve sighed and his body melted into the hospital bed. Then he was well and truly out and for the first time in the last few hours, that was actually a good thing. He'd finally found a little peace.

Natasha couldn't be more grateful. She handed the jar back to Bruce and kissed Tony full on the mouth. "Thank you."

Tony jumped in surprise. "Whoa, that was unexpected and not all together unpleasant."

Natasha pulled away from Tony and moved on to Bruce. She pulled him into a hug, her eyes landing on Steve in the bed. "Thank you both. You saved him."

"He's not out of the woods yet, Natasha. We've gotta watch him close. Those burns were teaming with god knows what," said Bruce.

"But he's out of pain. At least for now. That's a start," she said as she took off her gloves, discarding them carelessly on the ground. She had to get out. She stumbled out of the OR, away from Steve and the concerned looks of Bruce and Tony. She bashed through the double doors and literally fell into Clint's arms.

"Natasha, thank god," he said, concern all over the archer's face as he checked her for injuries. She collapsed against him, unable to be strong for one more singular second. Clint caught on, moving her away from the OR giving her some visual and physical space from the burning nightmare. He settled her in a chair a few rooms down and she promptly threw up all over the floor before completely collapsing in on herself.

Clint simply grabbed onto her and held on tight, not saying a word as she cried silent tears.

"It's my fault," she said after awhile.

"That's bull, Tasha. You and I know Steve'd rather be dead and know you survived. It's just the way he is."

Natasha shook her head, removing herself from Clint's embrace. "Stupid hero stuff."

"You would've done the same for him."

"Would I?"

"In a second," said Clint without hesitation.

Natasha got up and wandered back towards the OR, looking through the glass doors as Bruce and Tony treated Steve's other injuries and disinfected and wrapped the burns with bandages.

She could feel Clint come up behind her and she was grateful for the support.

"He better be okay," said Natasha.

"He's Cap," said Clint. "Guy survived like 70 years in ice. A little sunburn ain't gonna kill him."

She continued to stare at Steve's still form on the bed, praying that Clint was right.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha picked at the bandage that had been placed over the burn on her arm, coughing against a sharp tickle in her throat. She had finally been forced to get her own injuries looked at, so they'd treated the bumps and bruises and tried to shove some oxygen down her lungs to help her breathe a little easier, but she had refused. They had tried to get her to sleep, but she had refused that too. Not until she was sure Steve didn't need her. Not until she was sure he was going to be okay.

Clint and Tony had gone back to the warehouse to debrief the mission on Steve and her's behalf. That and to look for Steve's shield. That damn shield. If and when they found it, Natasha was going to find some super glue and permanently attach it to Steve's hand. Then he'd never have to go through something like this again.

Natasha sigh in exhaustion, stretching out her tired body, resting her foot on the corner of Steve's bed. Bruce had just been in to check on Steve and adjust his meds. The super soldier was running a low grade fever that Bruce wasn't happy about. He'd told Natasha to watch Steve closely and to come get him if there were any changes.

Watch him closely she was. Steve had been placed in a prone position on his side. He was shirtless, the covers pulled down to his waist, exposing all the damage done to his torso, which was mostly covered in bandages either from his ribs or his burns. Natasha focused on an area not bandaged, a small spot of his abdomen to the left of his belly button. It rose and fell with every breath Steve took, every inhale pierced by a small, nearly imperceptible quiver that spoke of deeply held pain. Every exhale was just a tad shallower than it should be, not quite settling through his body, the air movement punctuated by a whisper of a moan escaping Steve's lips. Steve's eyes were closed in sleep, but not rest, his tensed breathing and the tremors of pain that coursed through his body every minute or so exposing the fact that Steve was hurting and badly.

The smoke inhalation seemed to have cleared out though thanks to the serum and Natasha thanked god for the favor, however small. The cream Tony had concocted also seemed to help if only for short increments of time. So that was something too. At this point, Natasha would take any good news she could get.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Natasha jumped a foot in the air, not realizing the super solder had woken up. He was looking at her through blue eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. She ignored the unpleasantness of their current situation, smiling and running a hand through his hair, which still reeked of smoke.

"You know, Rogers, a penny's not gonna get you far these days. Better off asking with a dollar."

Steve smiled and sighed, his eyes closing, his long lashes resting against his cheek. "Dollar won't get you much either."

"You'd be surprised, Cap. You can really make it stretch."

Steve moaned softly in acknowledgement but didn't open his eyes. "Thanks for staying with me."

"Well how could I miss the rockin party. You really know how to keep a girl on her toes."

"I try."

She leaned down and cupped his cheek with her hand, kissing him on the lips, noting how soft and warm they were compared to the last time her mouth had touched his.

Steve's eyes shot open, wide and vulnerable. Curious.

"Thank you," said Natasha, sitting back down in her chair.

"So did I improve any since the last time?"

Natasha smirked. "Why? You been practicing?"

"Maybe."

"Hospital bed kisses don't count. You can barely reciprocate."

Steve sighed. "That's a no then."

"Well maybe we'll have to try again when you're not in a hospital bed, Rogers. You know, for the sake of practice and all," she said, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure why said it or if she'd even meant it, it had just popped out. Still, she found herself nervous of what Steve's next words would be.

"We've got our date all set up, Peggy. I don't intend to miss it this time."

Natasha's gut clenched. "Steve, it's Natasha." She reached under his jaw, noting how warm he was and tilted his head gently until he was looking directly at her. But he wasn't looking at her at all. He was looking through her. His eyes were a brilliant blue, so lit with fever they were almost glowing. It scared her how fast and hard it had hit him, seemingly right before her eyes.

"Steve…"

Steve reached out his hand and stroked her face. "You're so beautiful. We've been given a second chance. I won't leave you this time, I promise."

Natasha pressed her hand over his and closed her eyes, pretending that he was talking to her, trying to imagine what it would be like to have this moment, to be this girl. To even have the chance to have something like this. In some world, maybe it was possible. With someone like Steve. Where she could be the girl that he needed. She just wasn't sure this was that world. It certainly wasn't at the moment and she couldn't take advantage of that. Not after all he had done for her.

She gently removed his hand from her cheek. "Go back to sleep, Steve."

"All I dream about is you," whispered Steve, his eyes filling up with tears. "I just want the life we would've had together. Our kids. Our grandkids. I'll never get to meet any of them." Steve closed his eyes in defeat, tears falling down his cheeks.

Natasha pressed her forehead to his, knowing what she needed to do for him. "You were always with me, Steve. Always. We did live a life together."

"I want more time," sobbed Steve, grasping her tightly, his wet tears soaking into her neck, his body like a campfire next to hers.

"I'm right here, Steve. We have all the time in the world."

Steve's tears faded into sniffles and he slowly parted from her, his face going blank in confusion.

"Natasha?"

Natasha tentatively reached out and stroked his cheek. "Are you back?

"Where did I go?"

She shook her head. "It's doesn't matter."

Steve started to blink hard, like he was trying to get something out of his eyes.

"Steve, you okay?"

He started to convulsively swallow, his face paling, his eyes dulling. "Ugh.

"Steve?"

"I don't feel so good," he breathed, looking like he was about to pass out.

"Steve, stay with me!"

He looked at her blankly and then his eyes rolled back in his head as he fell forward, collapsing against her shoulder.

"Steve, hey, Steve wake up," she said, pulling his head up and lightly slapping his cheek, the heat radiating off of him.

Steve's body suddenly went rigid in her arms and then he began to writhe, his joints popping, his muscles seizing up.

"Oh son of a bitch, Steve, come on!" she pleaded, struggling to get him back prone on the bed. She frantically pressed the nurse's button. "Banner, he's seizing!" she screamed.

She eyed the sink outside, desperate to grab a wet towel and try to cool Steve down, but she was afraid if she left his side that he would fall right off the bed with the intensity of the how bad his body was spasming against the fever.

Steve continued to seize, his teeth clenching, his chest squeezing in on itself, the burns rubbing hard against the bed. It would've hurt like hell if Steve had been with it. It probably still did.

Bruce dashed into the room a few seconds later, armed with icepacks and a syringe of medicine. He wasted no time in wiping a spot on Steve's arm and jabbing the shot in, the seizure causing Steve's arm to move against the needle. By the time all the medicine had been dispensed, there was a bloody mark where the shot had been injected.

Steve cried out, the pain of the seizure finally hitting his body. Natasha tried to grab for his arm, but she couldn't get a firm grip amid the thrashing.

"What do we do?" she yelled at Bruce in a panic.

"Just give the meds a second to work. He'll be okay. Then we can try and cool him down."

Steve continued to violently convulse, a series of choked moans bubbling out of his mouth like hiccups. Gradually though, his body began to relax, the intensity of the seizing calming down until finally Steve was left simply shuddering against the assault his body had taken.

"Get these on him. Pulse points. Neck, armpits, groin," instructed Bruce, handing her the icepacks. She placed one on either side of his neck, in his armpits and between his legs, doing her best to give him some modesty at the personal invasion.

Bruce wiped up the bloody shot entry point, putting a bandaid over the area and checked his burns, nodding at their healing progress. "He's okay. His body is just going through a lot. It doesn't know what to fight first and it's overwhelming him."

"So no infection?"

"No infection," assured Bruce. "This is good news, Natasha. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he's fighting the hell out of this." He lifted the bandage covering the burns to show her. "Look at it already. The skin isn't as raw as it was even a few hours ago. Another day or two and this'll be scarred over."

Natasha ran a hand over Steve's forehead, seeing nothing but the clench of his jaw and the pain lines at the corner of his eyes as his body trembled. "He's still hurting though."

"I know," said Bruce. "But you've gotten him through this, Natasha. He wouldn't have made it, serum or not, without you."

Natasha shrugged off the compliment, not feeling like she deserved it.

"You should sleep. I'll watch him for awhile."

"No," insisted Natasha. "I got this."

"Alright," said Bruce after a moment's hesitation. "Call me if you need anything." He started to walk out of the room.

"Hey Banner…" said Natasha, stopping Bruce in his tracks.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for everything. For him…for me."

"You got it, Romanoff." He turned on his heels and left.

Natasha sat back down at Steve's bedside, brushing her hand across his cheek. He was already cooling off. In fact, he seemed to be shivering against the cold packs on his body. She reached down to the foot of his bed and pulled up a thin sheet, laying it gently over his bare chest.

Steve moaned softly and curled into the sheet, but didn't wake up.

Natasha settled back in her chair with a sigh and after a few moments of making sure Steve was well and truly out, picked up the tablet Clint had left for her in case she got bored. She went to the S.H.I.E.L.D. database and typed in Steve Rogers name. She knew all the basics. His stats. His general history. Now she wanted to know all the details. Everything that had ever happened to him. She wanted to see every photo, every video of the man lying in the bed next to her. He was suddenly the most fascinating person in the world to her.

An hour went by. Then two.

Steve slept like the dead the first hour, his fever broken, his body needing it's rest to heal. In hour two, the nightmares started. She could imagine the horrific images that haunted him in his sleep after reading through his war history and all that he'd been through in his life. All that he'd lost.

He cried out, his body flinching and dodging and weaving, his breathing fast and panicked. "Bucky, it's me!" He yelped as if he'd just been punched. "S'my fault! M'sorry. Should've…shoud've looked for you!"

Tears began trickling down his cheeks and he gasped for air, his ribs clenching against his speedy inhales. It was all too familiar and Natasha couldn't watch him go through so much pain again.

"Steve, wake up."

Steve moaned, his eyebrows pulling tight.

"Steve, wake up," she repeated, her voice firm like she was giving an order.

Steve's eyes flipped open on command. He looked at her with exhausted confusion. But his eyes were clear. He was with her.

"You okay?" she asked, placing a gentle hand on his chest.

"You been here this whole time?" asked Steve, his voice soft and sleepy.

"You don't sleep too good, Rogers."

Steve's face reddened in embarrassment. "What I do?"

Natasha's face fell in sadness. "No…nothing. I just meant…I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Natasha…"

She held up his file on the tablet. "I'm sorry all this happened to you. I'm sorry you lost so much. I'm sorry that such a good man could have such a bad life. That your dreams are anything other than peaceful. I'm just sorry. I'm sorry for all of it."

"Nat," whispered Steve. "I've had a beautiful lady sitting by my bedside for the last day and a half taking care of me and making sure I'm okay. I assure you, my life is not all bad."

"Aww, you think I'm beautiful?"

"Come on, you know you're a knockout," he said with a smile, shifting slightly, wincing as his burns rubbed against the sheets.

"Easy," said Natasha, reaching for the burn cream. "I think it's time for one last dose of Stark's wonder cream."

She pulled down the sheet to expose Steve's side and chest and suddenly it was like he was standing naked before her. She carefully lifted the bandage on his side and rubbed on the cream as Steve's abs contracted against the chilled sensation, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh.

"Wooo," said Steve, shivering awkwardly. "S'cold."

"Sorry," said Natasha as she replaced the bandage and went to work on his back, massaging the cream in as Steve's muscles relaxed against her hand. She marveled at how much his skin had already healed since the last time she had done this. By that time she had replaced the bandage and raised his covers back up, Steve was looking up at her through heavily-lidded eyes.

"Get some sleep, Steve," said Natasha, her own eyes threatening to close. Now she could finally relax enough to sleep. Steve was going to be okay.

She stood up, stretching and heading for the door to see if Bruce could find her a bed.

"Nat…"

She turned around to look back at Steve. "Yeah?"

"Stay," he murmured, his eyes not meeting hers. "Maybe I won't have those nightmares."

"Cap, you asking me to sleep over?"

"Well…I…ah…I…"

Before he could spit out a clear answer, Natasha removed her shoes and climbed into his bed, slipping in behind him, careful not to rub against any of his injuries. "You better not hog the covers, Rogers."

She felt him relax next to her and she puddled into the bed, every part of her body sighing towards sleep.

"Thanks," Steve said so softly she barely heard him.

Natasha smiled. "Don't mention it."

And then Natasha fell asleep.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks so much for all the story love! On to the last part…

Natasha gripped Steve's shield curiously, swinging it back and forth as she walked down the hall. After nearly a week of searching, they had finally found it buried under a pile of canisters in the warehouse. It had been loaded with scorch marks, which Natasha had insisted be painted over and polished out.

Now it was as good as new.

Steve wasn't in as quite as pristine condition, but he was getting there. His shoulder had fully healed and most of his bumps and bruises had cleared up. His ribs were still giving him some issues and likely wouldn't be fully healed for another couple of days.

His burns were amazing. There was was no other way to describe it. Flesh that had been blackened and charred only a week earlier was now pink and peeling like a bad sunburn. There would be no scars. The only evidence of the burns would be the images seared in Natasha's memory.

Forever.

She walked into Steve's room to find the fallen solider struggling to put on a T-shirt. The shirt was half-way over his head, the bruises of his damaged ribs yellow, his back and side one big patch of scaly, flaky, dead skin.

"Need a little help?"

Steve turned towards her, his chest muscles flexing. He winced as he tried to get the shirt further down his body, his ribs clearly paining him. Natasha set down the shield and wordlessly stepped over, grasping the material of the shirt and gently pulling it down Steve's body.

Steve gave her a grateful nod. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." She reached back and grabbed the shield, handing it over to Steve. "Good as new. Just like you."

Steve grabbed the shield, looking at it in wonder before setting in down, shifting his back against his T-shirt. "Almost." He reached a hand towards his back to itch at his peeling skin, but his ribs stopped him short, causing him to grunt in pain.

He looked back at her with pleading puppy dog eyes. "Will you scratch my back? Please? It's driving me crazy."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "The things I do for you, Cap." She turned his body around so his back was facing her and then went to work, using her fingernails to scratch against the flaking skin.

"Ohh…higher, higher," said Steve with a moan of pleasure. "Oh yeah. Right there. Oh god."

He leaned into her touch, his body relaxing as his itch was finally relieved. "That feels amazing."

"Who knew you were so kinky, Rogers," said Natasha, sweeping a final gentle hand down his back and giving his butt a playful pat.

Steve turned around to face her, staring at his feet a few moments before sheepishly nodding towards a cabinet next to his bed. "Hey...uh...you mind checking that for me? I wanna make sure I didn't leave anything behind."

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "What would you have left? Everything you had burned off your body."

Steve blushed. "Natasha, can you play along with me here? I'm still a little out of practice when it comes to the ladies."

She was suddenly very nervous and unsure of herself, something a man hadn't been able to bring out in her in a very long time. She recovered her wits quickly though and cocked her head at him, throwing him a sideways smile. "Okay, Cap, I'm checking the cabinet, making sure you didn't leave anything," she said, air quoting the leave anything.

She knelt down, her heart pounding, not sure at all what the next thirty seconds would bring and for her, that was extremely rare. And incredibly scary. And exciting as hell.

She opened the cabinet door and was reduced to a puddle of goo. "Aw Steve," she sighed as she pulled out a bouquet of blue roses and two tickets to the opening day baseball game.

"I didn't want you to think I forgot," said Steve in a shy tone.

"I sure didn't," said Natasha, putting her nose to the stunning sky blue roses that were so perfect they looked like they had been dipped in plastic. The sweet rose smell flooded her nostrils and she knew she would forever associate the ambrosial scent with Steve's lopsided grin. "These match your eyes, Rogers. You trying to make me swoon?"

"Naw. Just trying to keep a date for once."

Natasha stepped to him and wrapped herself around his body, feeling his warmth and the solidness of his muscles, the way his abdomen rose and fell against her as he breathed, the way he stiffened in nervousness on first touch and then relaxed against her as he got more comfortable. "Thank you" she murmured against his chest, reveling in his fresh soapy scent that didn't hold one trace of smoke or fire.

"Thanks again for sticking with me," he whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

"Anytime," she said, slowly parting from the hug.

They both stood there awkwardly for a few moments, avoiding eye contact, not at all sure what was to come next.

"So, you're gonna catch me that foul ball, right?" said Natasha, finally breaking the silence.

Steve nodded, his eyes coming up to solidly meet hers. "Guaranteed. You're gonna have the time of your life."

"Oh yeah?" said Natasha, canting her hips. "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be bored stiff."

Steve shook his head with a huge grin on his face, his eyes lit on fire. "Impossible. Just you wait, Natasha Romanoff. Just you wait."

And the truth was, she really couldn't wait.

But Steve Rogers didn't need to know that.

That's All Folks!


End file.
